


Pushed

by ATTHS_TWICE



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Episode: s03e17 Pusher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 07:06:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15552315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ATTHS_TWICE/pseuds/ATTHS_TWICE
Summary: Post Pusher, Mulder and Scully heal after the events they endured.





	Pushed

Scully was unable to sleep. Mulder had dropped her off a couple of hours ago, but sleep was eluding her. She had taken a bath, had some tea, but still she was unable to relax and sleep.

This case.. Jesus. She threw back her covers and got out of bed. She was wound up and she needed to move. She began pacing around the apartment, thinking, reliving, and dissecting the last few days.

Robert Patrick Modell was not a name she wanted to ever hear again. He had almost cost her partner his life and he had viewed it as nothing but a fun game. A way to get his rocks off before he himself would inevitably die. What a sick fucking bastard.

Mulder had been all in with this case from the very beginning. She saw how he was intrigued by Modell’s “ability” and wanted to know more. Being able to “push” his will onto people was something Mulder would, of course, find incredibly amazing. He wanted to understand the how and she wanted to know the why. Why inflict pain or death on others simply because he, Modell, was dying?

Seeing Agent Collins set himself on fire, the after effects of Holly’s attack on Skinner, and then being unable to help Detective Burst as he died seemingly just by Modell’s words, made Scully increasingly concerned for Mulder. As soon as Modell made it clear his sights and his intentions were on Mulder, she was even more worried. She knew how deep he would get involved and knew he would want to stop any more deaths from happening. If that meant Mulder himself was in danger, so be it. He had very little regard for himself at times, as long as others were safe. It would be an endearing quality, if it did not scare the absolute shit out of her.

Once they had Modell surrounded at the hospital, Mulder told the SWAT leader that he himself should go in alone, giving Modell what he wanted. One man was better than a whole team. Less chance of major damage that way. Going in with surveillance equipment, he could communicate with them, thus putting less people in danger.

She stopped pacing and sat on her couch, clutching her stomach, reliving her fear and worry of him going in there alone. Without backup. Without her. She remembered the look on his face as he knelt before her, trying to reassure her. Then he handed her his gun. It had surprised her. Scared the hell out of her. He should have had the protection, but she found it hard to argue with his reasoning of not wanting to chance hurting others with it. He had tried to appear nonchalant and calm, but she saw it. Saw the fear and felt his concern when he kept his hands on her knees. Her grasp on his hands seemed to propel him to get moving.

_“Let’s get this show on the road.”_

She felt her stomach churning when she thought of the sight of him on the monitor when Modell found him and pointed a gun in Mulder’s face. She had felt like she would never get to him fast enough as she bolted out of the van.  

Putting on a kevlar vest, heading down the hospital hall, not knowing what she was walking into, should have scared her. It did not. The only thing on her mind was Mulder. Getting to him and making sure he was okay. What if Modell had pushed him to hurt himself or another before she was there to try and stop him?

Finding him in a room, sitting at a table, preparing to play a deranged game of Russian roulette, made her physically ill, then and now. The look on Mulder’s face, the setness of his eyes, the sweat on his face. She could see he was trying to fight it, but Modell was a worthy adversary. He had found someone to play his little game and he was not going to let him go without a fight to the death.

When Mulder was to turn the gun on himself, she thought for sure he would snap out of his trance. He would not kill himself. Would not take that chance. Not Mulder. He was stronger than that. She thought her words would reach him and he would hear **her** over whatever hold Modell had on him.

And then Mulder put the gun to his own head and pulled the trigger.

Her heart stopped. Her world fell off its axis.

Her fear and anger rose up like a tidal wave of hot molten lava and she saw red. That fucking man had put Mulder’s life in danger for sport. Never before had she wanted to physically put her hands on someone and cause them harm. She wanted to rip Modell in half if it meant Mulder would be safe.

She got up off the couch and began pacing once more. Those feelings of anger were bubbling up inside her again. The fact that she had been unable to stop him.. her heart pounded hard thinking how terrified she felt in that moment.

Then.. oh god.. she slid to the floor against the wall.. drew her knees to her chest and sobbed.

Then Mulder had painfully grabbed her arm and turned the gun on her.

Her turn, Modell had said, gotta play by the rules.

She saw the moment Mulder realized what he was doing. How scared and surprised he was to see her looking back at him. Almost as if he did not know she had come into the room. She saw the pain on his face. Saw him trying to fight it, to hear her. She saw when the words she spoke finally seemed to make their way through to him, but he still could not stop the control Modell had on him. She saw it, saw the way he fought so hard to stop what he was doing. Telling her to run. Imploring her.

She ran. Pulled the fire alarm and the connection was broken. Modell was down. The SWAT team rushed into the room. Mulder handed her the gun as he collapsed back into the chair. His shame and defeated posture had broken her inside. His pain reverberated throughout the room and into her heart. She stood in that crowded room with Mulder’s voice telling her to run, the clicking sound of the gun chamber turning, and the fire alarm ringing in her ears. No one heard the sound of her heart breaking for him.

They drove home in complete silence. She saw his hands gripping the steering wheel until his knuckles were white. So many thoughts and feelings bubbled up, but she shoved them down. He did not seem to want to talk, and she was not going to force it.

Arriving at her apartment, he had barely looked at her as she got out of the car. She quietly said good night and he simply nodded, not looking at her. He drove away and she watched him go.

Now, she was unable to sleep, to calm her mind from replaying the past few days. The terrifying scenes presenting themselves over and over. He almost killed himself. Almost killed her. She needed to see him, to talk to him. They could not let this go undiscussed. Could not let this be another thing they kept buried.

She pushed herself up and away from the wall. She rinsed her face in the bathroom, went in her room and hurriedly changed her clothes. She slid on her shoes, grabbed her keys and her phone, and opened the front door.

Mulder was standing on the other side, his hand up, ready to knock. They stared at each other in surprise and then she wordlessly stepped aside so he could come inside.

He stood in the middle of the room, shoulders slumped, head down. She touched his arm and he jumped. His eyes raised to hers and she smiled slightly, reaching for his coat collar. He let her take his coat off and she hung it on the rack. He was still in his suit and she wondered if he had even been home. She guided him to the couch and gave him a gentle push to sit down.

He sat with his head in his hands, elbows on his knees. She walked away dropping her keys and phone on her kitchen table. She filled the tea kettle again, putting it on the stove to heat up. She watched him from the kitchen, unsure what to say, but wanting to help him.

The kettle began to softly whistle. She turned off the stove and filled two mugs with water, adding two bags of chamomile tea. She put them on a tray with sugar, honey, and a couple spoons. She set the tray on the coffee table and sat next to him on the couch. Close, but not touching.  

Nothing was said, no sound was made for several minutes. She sat forward to grab her tea when he finally spoke. She leaned back without her cup as he startled her.

“I owe you an apology,” he said in a quiet raspy voice.

“Mulder, you don’t owe-” she started to say.

“Scully..” he cut across her and lifted his head. His red rimmed eyes burned into hers. She nodded. She would let him continue. Get his words out.

“I.. Scully, I know you were worried about how quickly I was pulled into this case. How intrigued I was by Modell. But I never anticipated.. I wouldn’t have gone in like that, if it had meant putting you in danger. I was trying to avoid that, as well as anyone else being hurt,” he looked down again and then raised his eyes to hers.

“I.. I didn’t want you to face him in case you weren’t strong enough to resist him,” he admitted quietly. “Turns out, I was the one who wasn’t strong enough. I think he would have met his match with you. You would have told him to fuck off and taken him down.” He smiled slightly, but his heart was not in it, she could see it.

“I didn’t.. I couldn’t pull away from him, Scully. He was in my head. It was just as you said Holly explained it. I could see myself there, but I couldn’t stop it. I saw you come in… and Jesus, Scully, I could hear myself screaming for you to go, but I couldn’t say it. I was.. it was like I had a weight on me, holding me down. I could only move when he told me I could,” he stood up abruptly and began pacing the room.

He shook his head, scrubbing his hand down his face as he did, rubbing his hand roughly across his mouth.

“I..shit..I,” his jaw clenched many times as he fought for the words to say. “He knew things about me that he used against me. I could hear them in my head like shouted whispers. My own self doubts, my insecurities, my past troubles.. it was.. like..” he trailed off, as if not knowing how to put it into words or perhaps not wanting to voice them.

He stopped pacing and slid to the floor, his back against the wall, until he was squatting, shrinking into himself. She watched him, not knowing what to do.

“But seeing your eyes Scully, your pain, your fear,” he whispered, his head down, as he shook it back and forth.  “I don’t think you could understand how scared I was in that moment.” He dropped his head into his hands. 

“You don’t think I could understand?” She whispered, rising off the couch and standing in front of it, hurt and anger apparent in her voice. “Are you serious? I watched you hold a gun to your head and pull the fucking trigger! Don’t you dare tell me I couldn’t understand how scared **you** were. Don’t you dare!” She said her voice still low, but deadly serious and angry.

He looked up, surprised at her anger. But then his own seemed to propel him forward as he pushed off the wall and came toward her.

“You think it’s the same, Scully? Do you really think that me holding a gun to my head would be the same as **me** killing **you** ? Are you goddamn serious?” He asked her, anger rolling off of him in waves. “If I had to watch you die, knowing I was the cause of it? That I had no control over myself and I fucking **shot** you? If I had to call your mother and tell her that I was the cause of her losing another daughter? Do you think.. think..” he choked on his words as he began to sob.

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his head in his hands again as he sobbed at her feet.

She was reeling with his words. He was angry yes, but it was from his fear of what he almost did. His fear was for her and her alone. Not caring about himself, just the overwhelming concern for her. How it would have killed him to be the cause of her death, her mother’s pain, her families loss. Her heart broke at his admission, at his fear and the caring he had for her.

She fell to her knees in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He grabbed her and clutched her to him. She could feel his sobs shaking her body and soon hers were shaking his. They clung to each other and cried out their anger and relief.

Words tumbled from their mouths as their tears cleansed their souls, their guilt, their fears.

“Don’t do that to me again, Mulder.”

“Jesus, Scully, I was so scared. So scared.”

“I don’t want to watch you die.”

“I don’t want to watch you die.”

Mulder seemed to effortlessly move and lift her until they were both sitting on the couch with her on his lap, holding one another. There was nothing sexual about it. No thoughts from either of them that this was inappropriate or if it crossed a “platonic partners only” line. This was a deep need being filled by both parties. The need to know they were alive and they were forgiven, especially on Mulder’s end. His guilt hung over them like a dark black cloud.

Eventually they calmed down and then seemed to realize their position. Scully pulled back, saying nothing, as she made a show of gathering their mugs and taking them into the kitchen to reheat. She closed the microwave door when she heard Mulder behind her.

He plopped down at the kitchen table and sighed. His head on his hand as he traced the lines in the table. She set the mugs down and he nodded his thanks.

They sat in silence drinking their tea, not looking at each other but not avoiding eye contact. Then Mulder reached out and grabbed her hand. She looked at him and they stared at one another for many minutes, saying a thousand things with their eyes. Things their mouths were not ready to express.

She squeezed his hand as they drank the last bit of their tea. He squeezed back and got up, putting both of their mugs in the sink and then headed to the front door. She followed him to see him out. He took his coat off the hook and slid his arms in and adjusted the collar.

He had a hand on the doorknob and he paused. He turned to her and looked at her before stepping closer to her. He looked in her eyes and must have seen what he was trying to find. He wrapped his arms around her again and held her close. She held him to her and together they took deep calming breaths.

He stepped back and smiled softly at her as he grabbed the doorknob again. She held the door as he walked out. As he rounded the corner, he turned back and smiled. She smiled back as he raised a hand in goodbye and then he was gone.  

She closed the door, locked it, and leaned against it. She closed her eyes as she took more deep breaths, realizing how exhausted she now was, and how wonderful her bed would feel. She turned off the lights and headed to bed, content that they would now be to able to sleep better.

For tonight, at least.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love this episode. I love the care and concern Scully has for Mulder. Knowing how easily he is pulled into cases like this, she worries and it is beautiful. That scene in the hospital room, her face, her tears, her hands slamming down on the table.. top notch acting by Gillian. Ugh, I love it so much. Then of course, the hand grasp at the end. Oh, my shipper heart exploded when I saw that happen. This show is so good. ❤️


End file.
